


Damaged

by Fudgyokra



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dry Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Heavy Angst, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Revenge, Situational Humiliation, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation, all of these things are really just a product of noncon, none of those feelings are GOOD but still, of the underage variety, sorta...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: "Remember how close we were? How we loved each other?"





	Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Forced to Watch, requested by an anon on Tumblr. They also requested it be JayDick, but I may have taken some artistic liberties in that field, lol.

Dick and Jason used to be close. Very close.

Back when Robin was still in tights and Nightwing came around Wayne Manor just to visit him, Bruce always suspected something was going on behind the scenes. Nothing Dick would admit to, of course, halfway out of shame and halfway out of the dredges of bitterness he still held for Bruce from when he’d first left for Blüdhaven. Whether or not he crossed certain lines was a mystery, but Bruce didn’t need to be a detective to notice the lingering touches; the less-than-platonic kisses on the cheek, far too close to the mouth; or the way Jason liked to sit astride Dick’s lap, arms looped around his neck.

Things changed quickly. Suddenly, Dick was so swamped with the Titans that swinging by the Manor just wasn’t plausible anymore, and his relationship with Jason fell by the wayside, leaving the boy to miss him, to want him - to never see him again, as fate would have it.

At least not before he became  _this_.

Bruce stared him down from across the room: Jason Todd, the Arkham Knight. The Joker’s greatest project, and the Batman’s greatest failure.

“It’s your fault,” Jason informed him, not for the first time that night. He paced around the metal support beam in the center of the room, to which he had Dick’s wrists tied. He was in full uniform like the rest of them, with a length of cloth secured around his mouth to keep him quiet.

Bruce, too, was incapacitated by rope. Tightly-tied restraints kept him in his chair, at least long enough for Jason to get whatever point he was trying to make across. He was damned good at tying knots, Bruce realized with an internal grimace. It might take him up to twenty minutes to get free, provided the Knight didn’t kill him first.

“Initially, I thought I should just kill you and get it over with,” Jason spat, approaching Dick and easily side-stepping his sweeping kick. He wound his fingers in the man’s hair and yanked his head back, earning a muffled shout from behind the gag. “But then I thought: Why let you take the easy way out when I had to suffer?”

Bruce said, with an edge to his voice, “Let Nightwing go. This is–”

“Between you and me?” Jason guessed, mocking Bruce’s serious tone. “Yeah, no. This isn’t just about us, Batman. It’s about what led me here. About what  _made me into this_.” Furiously, he forced Dick’s head forward, knocking his skull against the support beam. Not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough to slice a cut into the skin above his brow. It bled, as head wounds do, an alarming amount. Down his mask, his cheek, his chin.

Jason crouched beside him and pulled the gag down, using his thumb to smear some of the blood across Dick’s lips. And then he dragged him in by the back of the neck and kissed him hard, making Dick jerk his hands uselessly against his bonds.

Bruce was momentarily stunned into silence, which was more than could be said for Dick, who sprung into a monologue the moment Jason pulled away. “Wait, Jay, listen to me. This isn’t you. This is what Joker turned you into, not us. Not Batman. If you would just–”

Ignoring him, Jason snatched a knife from his artillery and sliced cleanly into the Nightwing suit, then tossed it aside to tear at the rest.

Dick’s gasp burned Bruce’s ears more than the panicked, “What are you doing?”

Jason pushed up behind him, trapping him against the beam, and tore the suit until Dick was plainly bare, forced into submission by his nakedness and by Jason’s hands alike. “Jay,” he tried again, voice shaky. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?” Jason asked, then looked up with burning eyes to meet Bruce’s through the cowl. “Just watch me.” Even if he couldn’t see it, Bruce could hear Jason pulling his zipper down and shuffling the heavy fabric of his pants down his thighs.

“Stop this!” Bruce barked, the panic and the anger and the guilt all converging into one deadly beast. “Let him go!”

“I will,” Jason promised. “So he has to live with this, just like I have to live with my scars.” He dug gloved fingers into Dick’s hip so hard that Bruce could see the skin dimple beneath them, and with his other hand guided himself into position to snap his hips up, forcing the head of his cock inside the man.

Dick’s scream was blood-curdling. Bruce thought he might have said something, but even his own voice wasn’t audible to him past the shouts as Jason rocked into him with punishing thrusts, granting no reprieve and no adjustment.

“I won’t be the only one who’s damaged goods!” Jason asserted, voice cracking. “I want you to watch me  _fuck_  him, Bruce. I want you to look at me tear your perfect son apart, and I want you to remember that it was your greatest failure who made him scream like a  _whore_.”

As if to spite him, Dick clamped his mouth closed against his cries, only to ground out pitiful whines against the bar in their place. “Why?” he sobbed. “What happened? What happened to us?”

Jason’s lip twisted, but his eyes glinted with something shiny and hurt. “It’s what happened to me,” he growled as he dragged Dick’s hips back against a heavy thrust - enough to make the man cry out again in agony. “You got to stay perfect and untainted, while I got robbed of  _everything!_ Well, you’re not either of those things anymore, are you, birdie?”

“Stop,” Dick said, but it came out hoarse and pathetic.

“How does it feel, Batman?” Jason asked. He pistoned his hips with enough force that Dick made loud, unobstructed “ahhn!” sounds with each thrust. The tears leaking out from beneath his mask mixed with the blood on his face, and it made Bruce’s stomach churn.

“You’re sick,” he replied. “You leave me no choice. I’ll have to put you away for good, Jason.”

Predictably, Jason laughed. “What, in Arkham with all the other crazies? In Blackgate with the baddies? I survived hell! Those places are  _nothing_  compared to what I went through!” His breaths and words were coming out stilted. Labored with the effort it took to keep violating, keep degrading.

“Tell me how you feel, birdie,” he hissed in Dick’s ear, making him flinch. “How does it feel to have your cherry popped in front of dear old daddy? You like it, don’t you?”

Dick didn’t answer. He only clenched his teeth against the pain, trying to root through everything he knew about Jason that might bring him back. That was the worst part, he thought: that he still had hope for him after this. “Jay…Jason…don’t you remember? Remember how close we were? How we  _loved_ each other?”

“I…I still…” Jason groaned. Dick shuddered at both the sound and the implication hiding beneath his unfinished statement.

He didn’t know when he’d started panting, but it wasn’t the worst mistake; the worst was looking up at Bruce, seeing the white films of his domino lenses watching them, his jaw set with anger and pain, hands jerking, struggling to loosen his ropes.

Dick felt ashamed. It was a grotesque sensation, heightened when Jason shifted and hit his prostate dead-on, sending a shock of unwanted arousal straight to his groin. Not enough to do anything conducive or to outweigh the pain, but enough to make his cock twitch and betray every ounce of sense in either his brain or his body.

Jason didn’t laugh or tease or anything else Dick expected. In the next moment, the man’s hands slid up to his waist, pulling him back into an arch and driving his cock deeper. Dick felt hot tears glide against the skin of his jaw where Jason’s face was pressed, and the horror in his stomach doubled.

“Jason,” he sobbed, despite himself. “ _Jason_.”

That was all there was to be said. Jason fucked him faster, and with a desperate cant of his hips, buried himself inside as far as he could go and came with a sob of his own against Dick’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Then he pulled out and got to his feet to zip himself up, expression reassembled despite the tears burning tracks down his cheeks. “I hope you’re proud, Bruce.” His shaky words barely withstood the venom of his tone. “You did this to me. You did this to  _us_.”

Bruce watched, weary down to his bones, as the Arkham Knight affixed his mask, turned on his heel, and left them both behind.


End file.
